


Solace

by ladyazura



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Creampie, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Force Bond (Star Wars), Literal Sleeping Together, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyazura/pseuds/ladyazura
Summary: Amidst fire and debris, she takes his hand and they run.





	Solace

Amidst fire and debris, she takes his hand and they run.

 

They use the ensuing chaos to their advantage, weaving through throngs of Stormtroopers too busy scrambling to evacuate to notice Kylo Ren, now a traitor to the First Order, or his female companion, as they make their way to the hangar and board the former’s personal shuttle. He punches in a set of coordinates, and then they’re taking off.

 

The departure from the _Supremacy_ and into hyperspace, then beyond, is mercifully quiet, and for that Rey is thankful.

 

She is in no mood to have her traveling companion rub salt on her wounds, or worse, his _pity_. Every now and then, she feels a gentle tug at the back of her mind as his consciousness grazes hers, testing the waters before retreating and leaving her with her own thoughts while he focuses on the path ahead. Rey does the same, gazing out her own red-tinted window at the vast blackness of space. The cockpit is cramped, uncomfortably so, with little to no leg room between the two of them. It clearly was not designed for more than one passenger in mind, but she endures nonetheless.

 

She dozes off for a moment, but when she opens her eyes again, she finds herself lying on a bed, with Kylo’s cape draped over her as a makeshift blanket. She sits up slowly, glancing around her unfamiliar surroundings. Everything is black – the walls, the ceiling, the floor, even the sheets. Bleak and devoid of color, the only source of light is the fiery dim glow emitting from the viewport. Furrowing her brow, she swaddles herself in Kylo’s cape and slips out of bed, padding across the stone floor to look. Below her, all she can see are rivers of lava.

 

There’s a hiss as the door behind her slides open, and Kylo walks in, drying his hair with a towel. He pauses when he sees her. She doesn’t turn, instead staring at him through the reflection in the glass. He’s shed most of his outer layers, leaving him in just his slacks that hang loosely from his hips. Of their own volition, her gaze lingers just a little too long on the scars and marred flesh decorating his arms and torso. She can only assume there are more on his back.

 

“Where are we?” She asks finally, shattering the silence between them.

 

“Mustafar.” He answers without a beat, discarding the towel and combing his fingers through his damp hair.

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s a temporary pit stop. To refuel. Lay low for a while.”

 

“Why _here_?”

 

Kylo gestures to their surroundings. “This is – _was_ – my grandfather’s castle. We’ll be safe here.”

 

“And you’re sure no one will find us?”

 

“Unlikely. This isn’t exactly the most inviting or habitable planet.” He says with a grimace. “We won’t be here long.” He pauses, and she can see – sense – him struggling with what to say next. “How are you… feeling? Did you sleep well?”

 

Rey shrugs.

 

“Rey…”

 

“Fourteen years.” She whispers, just loud enough for him to hear. “All that time, I waited for _nothing_. For a family that was never coming back. I can’t even remember what they look like, but I remember him telling me that he would come back for me.” A humorless laugh escapes her throat and bitter tears sting her eyes but she refuses to let them fall.

 

She’d been a fool for thinking her family would return, and a fool to think she could put her faith in the Resistance and Luke Skywalker.

 

“I know.”

 

Rey wants to argue – to tell him that no, he couldn’t possibly know what it was like to waste away on a backwater planet, to go without food for days, to pick apart the skeletal remains of fallen Star Destroyers for anything of value until his fingers bled, only to be given meager scraps in return.

 

To be discarded like trash.

 

But he does know what it feels like to be abandoned. Rejected. Feared. In that, they are similar.

 

She doesn’t notice him cross the room until he’s right behind her, absurdly tall form towering over her.

 

“Forget them, Rey. Forget the past. Kill it if you have to.” He reaches for her hair, tugging gently at the ties holding her buns in place until they finally unravel. It seems somehow intimate to let him touch her hair, to run his fingers through its tangled tresses, but she doesn’t stop him.

 

She doesn’t know what compels her to turn around, to catch his face in her hands and close the distance between them.

 

The kiss, if it can even be called that, is short-lived, and she tries not to let her disappointment show when Kylo breaks it and pulls away.

 

“Why did you do that?” He croaks.

 

“I don’t know.” She says honestly. “Was that wrong?”

 

“You’re upset. You’ve had a long day.” He’s avoiding her gaze.

 

That won’t do.

 

“Look at me.” Rey pleads.

 

Kylo squeezes his eyes shut but he opens his end the bond, allowing her to feel his conflict. In the darkest recesses of his mind, she hears Snoke’s voice, deep and raspy, echoing as clearly as it had in his throne room.

 

_You have **compassion** for her…_

 

_Fool, boy… do you think she would ever love a **creature** like you? After all you’ve done? _

_Your **compassion** for her makes you weak._

_Ben Solo was weak. Are you weak, **boy**?_

_Fulfill your destiny, Kylo Ren. Sever the light. **Kill her**._

 

Rey withdraws, staring up at him in stunned silence for a moment.

 

“Look at me.” She repeats, when she finds her voice. When he refuses, she takes his face in her hands once more and leans up, resting her forehead against his. “Ben,” she murmurs, feeling him tense against her. Rey knows the man before her believes it to belong to a dead boy, but it’s what Han had called him, and Ben Solo had proved to be very much alive when he raised his blade to Snoke.

 

When he fought with her, _for_ her.

 

“Don’t be afraid.” Her lips graze his ever so gently. “I feel it too.”

 

This time Kylo doesn’t pull away. Instead, he kisses her back, hesitant at first before easing into it. Their height difference makes it slightly difficult, and he has to crane his neck down awkwardly to slot his mouth against hers. He kisses her urgently, desperately, like he’s afraid she’s going to disappear. She kisses back with equal fervor, lacing her fingers through his hair and allowing her instincts to take over.

 

When they do finally part for air, they’re both flushed and panting. Placing a hand on his chest, she shoves him just enough that he ends up stumbling back onto the bed. As he scrambles to sit up, confusion etched across his face, she sheds herself of her boots and outer layers before joining him. He stares at her in a daze, lips parted and eyes clouded with lust. Another light push and he’s on his back, Adam’s apple bobbing as she straddles his waist before claiming his mouth once more.

 

It’s frenzied and graceless, borderline sloppy, but neither of them care. Already she can feel his desire between her legs, pressing against her, and the knowledge that it’s _because_ of her makes her spine tingle. Her cunt throbs and her head spins; a fire courses through her veins, threatening to burn her from the inside out, and all Rey can think to do to take the edge off is roll her hips against his. The noise he makes does little to relieve the ache but she doesn’t stop, can’t stop.

 

_So close… so close…_

 

Kylo tears his mouth from hers, much to her frustration.

 

“Wait…” He gasps, stilling her movements. “I’m not going to… I haven’t…”

 

“Neither have I.” She confesses.

 

 _We can learn together_. She tells him silently, reaching between their bodies.

 

His head falls back, strangled moan getting caught in his throat when she begins to palm him through his trousers. She bites the inside of her cheek as she touches him experimentally, watching his face contort in pleasure. The scavenger in her wants nothing more than to explore every inch of the man beneath her, but Kylo has other ideas. Without warning he seizes her wrist, and suddenly Rey finds herself on her back, with Kylo hovering over her.

 

He takes his precious time divesting himself of his trousers before making quick work of her clothes, until she’s completely bare. She’d never been particularly ashamed or embarrassed of her body, but there’s something about his intense gaze, the reverence in it – like she, herself, hung the stars – that makes her almost shy away. Almost.

 

_Glorious._

 

When he finally settles between her thighs and slides home, the galaxy stops.

 

The pain is brief but sharp, but their bond allows her to feel what he feels, and he feels extraordinary. His pleasure is her pleasure and outweighs any discomfort until it’s all she knows. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she loses herself in the sensations coursing through her, raking her nails down his back as he moves in and out of her body, grunting against her ear with every thrust.

 

It’s overwhelming but she can’t get enough; reaching down, she grips his buttocks and forces him deeper.

 

When he comes, Kylo buries his face in the crook of her neck with a choked sob. She cards her fingers through his hair as he continues to rock his hips lazily against hers, gasping and shuddering through the aftershocks. She tries not to wince when he finally descends from his high and pulls out, spent cock hanging between his legs as he stares at the mess they’ve made as if he’s mesmerized by the sight of his seed trickling out of her.

 

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she says nothing.

 

At long last, Kylo breaks the silence.

 

“You didn’t come.”

 

“No.” She admits.

 

“I’ll have to remedy that then, now won’t I?” He teases, sliding down the length of her body.

 

Rey licks her lips in anticipation, but when he reaches his destination and lowers his mouth to her, her eyes roll back.

 

She’s too raw. Too sensitive. Her hands fly to his hair, trying to push him away and pull him closer all at once as her hips cant and heels dig into the mattress. It’s too much, and as his tongue and lips work wonders on her, lapping and sucking on her clit until she’s a panting, begging mess, she can feel her toes begin to curl. Her back arches off the bed when she crests, wave after wave of pleasure washing over her until finally, mercifully, Kylo withdraws, eyes dark and mouth glistening with her essence.

 

Rey relaxes into the pillows, chest heaving as she basks in the afterglow. She gives him a small grin as he makes himself comfortable and rests his head on her stomach, completely at ease.

 

From there, it doesn’t take long for sleep to claim them.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just... a sort of prediction of how I think TLJ might end. Minus the smut, of course.
> 
> Please drop a comment and let me know what you think. Feedback is always welcome!


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